


in time it could be ours

by deusreks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deusreks/pseuds/deusreks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post Seijou's match with Karasuno. There's a moderate amount of rolling in the dirt. No pajamas were hurt in the writing of this fic.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i>There, in their joint backyard, was Oikawa Tooru, clad in his silly luminescent space pajamas, digging a hole near a cherry tree.<br/>“What the hell, Oikawa.”<br/>Tooru stubbornly continued digging. He looked pitiful in that moment; everything that was grand about him in daylight was meaningless in the darkness. He was only a boy with a shovel whose broken heart mirrored Hajime’s own.</i>
  </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	in time it could be ours

Hajime was stirred awake by his mother’s urgent hand. His mind registered her presence but his eyes, that still felt red and swollen to the touch, needed more time to catch up.

“Tooru’s mother called and said he’s digging something in the backyard.”

“ _What_?” Hajime jumped out of his bed, startling his mother as he did so. She was in her nightgown, likely roused from sleep as well. Her voice was level when she spoke; years of this taught her to worry, but also to trust that Hajime was the one who was the best at _Tooru-duty_.

“It’s past midnight. Tooru is wielding a shovel in the dark,” his mother repeated.

“I’ll handle it,” Hajime said, already pulling a sweater over his pajama.

“Will you be okay?”

“Yes, mom,” Hajime reassured her with a kiss on her messy bed head. “Go back to sleep.”

Hajime ran down the stairs and slammed into the locked doors of the backyard. He unlocked them and found that life truly had no sense of humor. There, in their joint backyard, was Oikawa Tooru, clad in his silly luminescent space pajamas, digging a hole near a cherry tree as if the fate of the universe depended on it. His hair was a nest made by hands that ran through it in a moment of weakness. Hajime had seen it enough times to recognize it when he saw it, even in the weak light coming from above the doors.

“What the hell, Oikawa.”

The night was so quiet that Hajime could hear his blood hum in his veins. Tooru stubbornly continued digging. He looked pitiful in that moment; everything that was grand about him in daylight was meaningless in the darkness. He was only a boy with a shovel whose broken heart mirrored Hajime’s own.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Iwa-chan.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, empty of its flirty lilt, as though he feared he would wake the neighbors. Or give something away.

“You’re worrying our mothers, for one.”

Tooru stopped digging, and for a moment, Hajime thought that he had finally gotten through to him on the first try. But after he’d finished wiping his glistening forehead on his sleeve, he kept on digging.

“There’s another shovel in the shed.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. There was something hollow and nameless in him. He was drained empty after hours of crying and replaying every spike that could’ve ended with Seijou’s victory. But that _something_ could never win against Tooru.

He safely found his way to the shed and grabbed a shovel. They dug in perfect silence. The late-night chill prickled Hajime’s skin but it was quickly replaced by a coat of sweat.

“Tell me, why is tonight the best time to dig up our time capsule?”

“You remembered, Iwa-chan.” Tooru’s face was turned away so Hajime couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He didn’t sound like he was fondly reminiscing.

“That was the only thing we ever buried here.”

Eight years ago, Hajime’s father helped them dig the hole up. It was spring and some of the cherry blossoms ended up buried as well.

“It hasn’t been ten years,” Hajime said, recalling their promise to dig it up after ten years have passed.

“Close enough,” Tooru said and a moment later, his shovel hit something that produced a thump. “ _Ah_!”

He let the shovel fall as he dropped to his knees and pulled out a brown box which used to be decorated with butterflies and flowers in crayons. All that covered it now was dirt.

“Let’s go inside and clean the box,” Hajime proposed. Tooru got up and looked at him, finally looked at him, and his face was nothing like that of a captain he had to be that afternoon. Hajime reached out, and Tooru didn’t recoil from his touch when his hand came to scrape off a speck of dirt on his cheek. “Our faces, too.”

“Okay.”

Inside, Hajime cleaned the box off with a couple of wipes because he doubted his mother would appreciate him leaving dirt all over the bathtub or sink. Once both them and the box was clean, they sat down next to Hajime’s bed and watched the box, neither of them moving to open it.

“What are we waiting for?” Hajime inquired, slightly peeved at Tooru’s sudden lack of initiative.

“I’m trying to remember what I wrote down and how incriminating it was.”

“You were eight.”

“I was a problematic eight year old.”

“Yeah, _so_ problematic. You saw a cicada once and made a point of walking around the woods the next half an hour in order to avoid it. We were late for dinner because of you.”

“My point exactly.”

“Just open the box, Oikawa.”

Tooru took the box and placed it in his lap. His pajamas was dirty but he didn’t seem to mind. He pushed the lid open and Hajime was overcome with sudden feeling of nausea. He didn’t remember what he had written down either. Inside the box, there were but two slips of paper: one was red and the other was blue.

“Mine was blue,” Tooru said and carefully pulled it out.

Hajime took out the other. He unfolded it and met his scrawled handwriting. His paper had holes in a few places because he used to press the pencil too hard. It read:

 

            _Dear old Hajime, I hope we managed to:_

_\- protect Tooru from bugs (he cries too much if we don’t)_

_\- play volleyball on the same team as Tooru_

_\- grow over 180cm tall_

_Love, Hajime._

 

Tooru had to cover his mouth with the back of his hand to stop an onslaught of laughter. He did it so poorly that he resigned to burying his face in Hajime’s shirt and laughing there. Hajime pushed him away and crushed the piece of paper in his hands.

“Well, at least two of them came true. That last one _is_ a bit troublesome.”

“Shut up. I almost made it,” Hajime grumbled. If digging up boxes in the middle of the night hadn’t completely awaken him, having Tooru lean into him when he had been broken and reassembled numerous times today sure finished the job.

“Let’s see mine. It can’t be worse than yours.”

 

            _Tooru~ Here’s what you have to do:_

_\- be on a volleyball team with Hajime_

_\- have a nice haircut_

_\- stop being afraid of bugs!!!_

_\- marry Hajime_

_\- be more than 180cm tall_

_I believe in you!_

 

“Damn, Oikawa. Most of these didn’t come true,” Hajime said. His throat was dry and his heart relocated to where Tooru’s shoulder was pressing into his own.

Tooru crumpled his paper with the swiftness of a scorned performer. He threw it and it made a perfect landing in the trash can. “Those were so embarrassing!”

“Ten times worse than mine,” Hajime agreed.

Tooru gave a petulant groan and his head came to rest on Hajime’s shoulder. Hairs that tickled his chin smelled of night breeze and grass.

“Well, this was lame,” Hajime said.

“Beats crying myself to sleep.”

“You didn’t cry after the match.” Hajime remember the face of his captain, the one who patted his back when he felt like crumbling. In that moment, he was proud to stand by his side, one last time.

“I tried my best to keep it together for the team,” Tooru confessed.

“Your face looks like shit now, though.” It was obvious, now that the light in Hajime’s room was on, that Tooru’s eyes were red, his skin raw and his mouth miserable.

“Thanks. Yours too.” Tooru stretched and yawned like an old cat that’s about to readjust itself in its owner’s lap. “Let’s sleep.”

Hajime contemplated making a gruff retort about how his bed was too small for both of them or how there was still dirt stuck on the hem of their pajamas or how they both needed some _actual_ sleep. But all he had on his mind were three insatiable thoughts: a hand on his back, fluffy hair to tickle him awake in the morning, ‘ _marry Hajime’._

He must’ve fallen asleep because he didn’t remember much after Tooru had laid down beside him. Hajime’s bed couldn’t hold them as it could when they were kids and their feet inevitably touched, but with his back turned to Tooru’s, he could endure. He checked his phone for time and found it was only 4am.

He was alarmed when he felt a slight tremor coming from the body next to him, a shaky inhale and exhale of breath.

Tooru was crying.

All of Hajime communicated flight or else he would start crying as well. One of them had to stay strong for the other, that was the silent promise they’d made in middle school. Hajime pushed himself up.

“You can jerk off here, I don’t mind,” Tooru’s words were wet with tears. Hajime heard him sniffle.

“Don’t be an asshole, Oikawa.”

“I’m sorry,” Tooru apologized. He turned around and pulled Hajime down, wrapping his hands around his chest and holding him firmly in place.

“I was only going for a glass of water,” Hajime said. Tooru head bobbed up and down in time with Hajime’s chest as he spoke.

“You can’t.”

“You act spoiled when you know you can get away with it.” Hajime talked into Tooru’s hair. His eyes stung. His chest was heavy and it wasn’t Tooru’s head that was causing it.

“I merely know your weaknesses and how to exploit them.”

“It’s not going to work someday.”

“It works today.”

Hajime ran his fingers through knotted strands of Tooru’s hair once.

“Sleep already,” he said.

“I’m trying to.”

 

* * *

 

Hajime wasn’t surprised to wake up to an empty bed. It wasn’t early morning as the sun was coming in through the window full-blast. He got up on autopilot and dressed much the same. His head throbbed but once he ate, his mind cleared and he knew what he had to do.

He rushed out of the house with nothing but a hoodie and a jacket on his back.

The second foreseeable event was spotting a familiar brown patch of hair among the bleachers. For all those crappy movies he so loved to watch, Tooru sure didn’t pick up a sense of camouflage. He only borrowed his father’s old glasses.

“Amazing,” Hajime mutters exasperatedly as he sits next to Tooru, a seat apart.

“And yet here you are as well.”

They watched Karasuno and Shiratorizawa’s match with a few snide comments here and there. Hajime felt the knot in his gut tighten the longer the match went on; at one point it seemed as though it would never end. He glanced at Tooru every once in a while and caught him biting his nails, his frown never letting up.

Watching the team who beat them win again in turn felt as liberating as it did suffocating. There was no divine retribution in seeing your enemy beat your other enemy. Only jealousy. _This should’ve been us._

“Let’s go home,” Tooru said when it was over and all but pushed Hajime outside. Hajime allowed himself to be steered away. If he hadn’t, he would’ve ran down the bleachers, jumped down on the court and demanded Tooru’s tosses. He glanced behind and searched Tooru’s face to confirm the same fire still burned them both.

Tooru’s face gave away nothing. They walked home in pleasant silence. His ridiculous glasses hung low on his nose.

A block away from their homes, Tooru finally spoke: “It feels like it’s truly over.” His hands were hidden so Hajime couldn’t read them, but he saw the pockets of his coat move and that was enough.

“We still have exams.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

Tooru stopped, the abrupt movement alarming Hajime.

“Let’s go grab some ice-cream,” he said and took Hajime’s hand. He lead them away from their street.

The weather was still favorable so Hajime didn’t mind the detour. With a cone of ice-cream and Tooru’s arm looped around his own, Hajime wouldn’t mind if the world collapsed right on his head.

“I hate this flavor,” Tooru said as licked his mint ice-cream with a disgusted face. His nose was scrunched like squirrel’s.  

Hajime guffawed. Right there. In the middle of the street. Tooru looked at him as though he had lost his mind when instead he has had something akin to an epiphany.

“You haven’t changed at _all_ ,” Hajime managed to squeeze in between bouts of laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me. Elaborate,” Tooru said with a tiny pout. There was ice-cream stick on his upper lip but Hajime wasn’t about to tell him.

“You had us walking around for ice-cream to avoid going home, just like you made us walk all around the place to avoid bugs. You’re _ridiculous_.”

Tooru pressed his lips together as though he was collecting a barrage of retorts he would shoot at Hajime all at once. Hajime didn’t let him. He took Tooru by the hand and broke into a merciless sprint, ice-cream in their hands and all.

“I have an idea.”

Back at home, Hajime brought the poor brown box to the kitchen counter along with two pieces of paper. He didn’t have them in color so they were both white. It didn’t matter. He had pens.

“Let’s do it again,” Hajime announced.

“That’s uncharacteristically sentimental of you, Iwa-chan.” Tooru said but he was already taking his seat at the table. He took a piece of paper and a blue pen. He turned his back to Hajime. “No peeking.”

Hajime rolled his eyes and got down to writing.

 

_Hey Hajime, I know you probably didn’t grow any taller but don’t worry, there are places you can reach even if you aren’t over 180cm tall. Instead of wishes or goals, I’ll leave you some good advice, in case you forget in years to come. So, here goes:_

_\- keep working_

_\- keep trying_

_\- keep improving_

_\- keep Tooru_

 

Once he was done, Hajime folded the slip of paper and deposited it in the box. Tooru finished a minute after him. He peered at Hajime over his shoulder, a tiny pout forming on his lips.

“I’m kinda curious about yours,” Tooru's voice was a demand disgusted as a plea.

Hajime knew this but he shrugged, riding high on boldness, and inevitability of change, and everything else he didn’t quite understand. He said, “Go ahead.”

Tooru unfolded the paper as if it were something fragile. Hajime watched his glassy eyes glide over the contents of the paper, growing more self-conscious the more he waited. When Tooru finished, he re-folded the paper and returned it to the box.

“Iwa-chan,” he said, his palm squeezing his own paper. “Why are you so cool.”

“One of us has to be. Let me see yours.”

Tooru’s hand disappeared behind his back so fast Hajime barely caught the movement. “No way.”

“C’mon, you saw mine. Yours can’t be worse.”

A dust of pink rode high on Tooru’s cheeks. He stood up and Hajime followed.

“I will tickle you,” Hajime threatened. It didn’t move Tooru, he kept his hand behind his back.

“No, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime lunged at him and Tooru raised his hand in the air, keeping the slip of paper away from Hajime’s curious hands. He even tip-toed to make it possible. Tooru’s mulishness over trifling matters never ceased to amaze him. Their height difference wasn’t even _that_ big!

Filled to the brim with childish displeasure, Hajime gave up on Tooru’s paper and bit his chin instead, hard enough to mark the spot for a few minutes. Tooru met him with wild eyes. Every second they prolonged the gaze felt like a confession. Hajime tore away from it first.

“ _Fine_ ,” he yielded and took a step back. He was growing dizzier under the weight of all he could ruin if he made the wrong move.

They buried the box in the late afternoon, on the same spot their old box had been buried, and parted ways.

 

* * *

 

Hajime might have felt guilty when the shovel first hit the ground. But guilt was powerless in the face of curiosity. By the time he almost dug deep enough to hit the box, he had completely forgotten about guilt.

With midnight moon on his back, his shovel hit the box at last. That was when he heard the shout:

“Iwa-chan! _Are_. _You_. _Kidding_. _Me?!_ ”

Hajime heard the threatening rumble coming from inside Tooru’s house and it was his cue to hurry. He picked the box up and opened it when the back doors of Tooru’s house opened and Tooru rushed out in all his pajama glory.

“ _Iwa-chan_!” He kept the ‘ _a_ ’ going across the yard until he tackled Hajime. They tumbled and went rolling.

They spun and spun and spun and finally hit the tree. Hajime had Tooru’s piece of paper clutched in his palm with no intention of letting go. Both of them went silent, save for their ragged breaths to interrupt the night. Nothing stirred in the darkness, luckily, and none of their neighbours showed sign of dropping by with brooms.

Tooru had Hajime pinned so Hajime couldn’t read the paper like this. It took more effort than Hajime dreamed of exerting at this hour, but he flipped Tooru over and kept him still underneath him. Tooru tried to wriggle his way out but Hajime wouldn’t budge.

Hands shaky with both adrenaline and cold fear, Hajime unfolded the paper, held it towards the light and read.

 

            _I know I used to fail you a lot so here’s a list of things I hope we’ll fix by the time we meet again:_

_\- you told Hajime you love him, a lot, since forever. we’re at a place where we can dream about kissing him without feeling guilty about it. and then maybe wake up to actually kiss him._

_\- every toss connects, every spike cuts through, our team is glorious_

_\- we’re okay, and if we’re not it’s also okay. keep going until it feels good again._

_I kept them realistic this time. Maybe. You tell me._

 

Tooru lay motionless under Hajime. His arms came to cover his eyes as his teeth dug into his lover lip. He looked like a mouse, trapped and ready to be devoured. Hajime couldn’t get his tongue to work.

“Damn it, Iwa-chan. Now it’s _ruined_.”

Tooru’s voice was either a whisper or Hajime’s inner turmoil was so loud it broke free of his body and made so much ruckus that nothing else stood a chance.

He swallowed as if to oil his throat into working again. He said, “Is this for real?”

Tooru ignored him and went on, “ _Now_ it feels like it’s truly over.”

“We still have exams!” Hajime spoke with so much inside him that his voice came out as half-shout.

Tooru’s hands fell away from his face. His expression was bewildered, bordering on indignant. “ _What_?”

“Yes, _god_. We still have exams, and then we’ll go to college, and we’ll rent a shitty apartment, and you’ll put posters all over the place, and I’ll complain all the time because you always leave your pudding unfinished, and our bed will be small but I won’t care because your feet may be cold but I wouldn’t trade waking up next to you for _anything_.”

The light above Hajime’s door went out because nobody had moved for too long. Hajime was on all fours above Tooru, holding himself firmly in place as though moving would erase this moment from existence.

Then he felt the rustle of grass and the graceful shift of Tooru’s limbs as he raised himself up to reach Hajime. Hajime swallowed a lifetime worth of heartbeats because, in the next moment, Tooru kissed him, sweet and on the right side of shy. Hajime’s mouth returned the favor, coming apart soft and pliant.

They kissed like that, for a while. The light above the doors stayed off.

“ _So_ ,” Hajime said, adoring the way stars reflected in Tooru’s eyes as he looked up at Hajime like he didn’t need the starry sky at all. “Are we going to make out in the grass or put this thing back in the ground?”

“You know what, leave it. I’m tired of digging.”

Hajime agreed with a nod and pushed himself up. His legs were wobbly and his mouth already missed Tooru’s mouth. Putting that aside, he offered his hand and helped Tooru up.

“It was a pleasure resolving our inner conflicts with shovels in the middle of the night.” Tooru wore a flirty little grin that sent Hajime’s stomach fluttering enough to press a spontaneous kiss on his pretty forehead.

Tooru laughed, as though tickled, and said, “Also, I’m running out of clean pajamas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fics that happen when you see a lonely shovel in your backyard while you're still a bit sad about Iwaoi. Thank you for reading.


End file.
